After feasting on an expensive breakfast we walked back to the station and made a reservation on the 02:30 sleeper for Varinassi (Banares). Sounds simple, but despite the very short queue it took us an hour. Everything in India seems to be done as slowly and methodically as possible and with all the documentation made in at least triplicate. There is absolutely no point trying to rush anyone. After awhile one slows down and adapts to the unhurried business and the sedate pace of life around. The trains move slowly and people wait patiently (or sometimes not) for hours, and hours.
After the train ticket we sought out a bank to change money. Another long and tedious job. Better make it part of the holiday experience rather than a functional necessity to get out of the way as quickly as possible.
No after effects from last nights gastronomic delights. We spent an hour at the railway station making a reservation to Delhi for Saturday night. I still don't have the hang of the up trains and the down trains.
We saw a ferocious row at the ticket office. If the grill hadn't been down I'm sure the two men would have come to blows. Oh so slowly, slowly grinds the Indian administrative system; paperwork in triplicate; needless details recorded.
Out into the heat of the day. The familiar touting of the many rickshaw drivers. Surrounded as always.
We all awoke feeling ill. I had belly ache, as did the other two, although Jane seems to be by far the worst. Pay back time for the earlier recklessness. Sugar cane juice from communal glasses is taking its revenge. But I tried to play it down. I'd felt like this lots of times, at home, nothing to do with India. I'd be OK in a couple of hours. Always was. It was just worse because of the heat. The heat is over powering. Being on the roof doesn't help.
Sunday 6th September: Resting back in Delhi
Best night's sleep so far on a train, although even so, it was interrupted by a fight, a very vicious fight. It seems to me that Indians seem to flare up very easily. For example, at the hotel I had ordered drinks which after a very long time arrived, but without my change. My change had still not arrived by the time I wanted to return to my room so I went to ask for it. The manager started to yell and shout me. The fight on the train was more than shouting, it was also physical. Punches were thrown.
I slept until 8:00, which was late, and had a large breakfast: half a grapefruit, cornflakes, toast and coffee. Then I packed and went to the post office, which took ages. Robert, Ben's uncle, kindly took me to the airport. I was almost resigned to the inevitable problems there.
I was called back from the departure lounge and told I hadn't paid enough for my ticket! How does this work? You go to the airline office, state the date and destination, show them you passport, they issue a ticket for which you pay and then within days they say it was the wrong price (always to low!). Don't they know how much to charge for their on tickets? Well they wanted $24, which I didn't have. They asked to see my passport again. Occupation "student". It seems all was OK, the ticket office had given me student discount and my passport said I was a student. So there was no problem. Actually the passport was issued while I was a student, but now I wasn't - but no one had asked me and I hadn't known that I was getting student discount. In the circumstances I thought it best to keep quiet.
The night was hot. I think it was the hottest yet, or maybe it is the design of the more modern hotel. Breakfast was not inspiring. I wondered how much it was costing me. This is the only "proper" hotel I've stayed in.
I went into the city by rickshaw and my first visit was to the Golden Temple. This time more appropriately attired. Shoes off, through the flowing footbath and once again into the peaceful, calm sanctuary with music and singing quietly audible in the background. The temple guards (or wardens?) walk around looking impressive and imposing in their tunics, turbans and swords. Some posed for me to photograph.
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